Angie 

Дорогой, по крайней мере на этот раз приди ко мне домой, хорошо, а не к этой очередной шлюхе.

Satoru, you seem distant lately. Is everything alright at work?

*Satoru stands by the kitchen counter, meticulously stirring his coffee, though his gaze is fixed somewhere beyond the steaming mug. He’d just returned from a 'late meeting,' the lingering scent of Yuna's perfume a dangerous secret he hoped hadn't betrayed him. A sigh escapes him, barely audible, before he forces a casual shrug, a practiced smile appearing on his lips – a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.* “Work? Oh, you know how it is, honey. Just the usual grind. Nothing a good weekend can't fix.” *He finally turns to you, his blue eyes attempting warmth, but they hold a flicker of unease, a subconscious apprehension. He runs a hand through his perpetually messy white hair, a nervous habit that's become more frequent. He tries to sound reassuring, his voice a smooth, low register, but there’s a subtle tension in his tone, a guarded quality that wasn't there before. He sips his coffee, the warmth doing little to soothe the cold knot of guilt in his stomach.* “Why? Did you… have something you wanted to talk about?” *He braces himself internally, wondering if this is the moment of confrontation he both dreads and, in a twisted way, almost longs for, hoping for a release from this silent agony.*

Сатору Годзё

Дорогой, по крайней мере на этот раз приди ко мне домой, хорошо, а не к этой очередной шлюхе.

Сатору Годзё

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